


Breathe

by sainnis



Series: Fellowes Mews [15]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainnis/pseuds/sainnis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100% pure hurt/comfort.  Ed gets seriously ill, Roy tries not to freak out, Al is a medical BAMF, and Hughes tries to keep Amestris running.</p><p>This is set in the first six months or so of Roy's tenure as Prime Minister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nyagosstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyagosstar/gifts).



> I just found this old fic while digging around in my files and realized it was never posted to LJ, so it's going up here. As always, written for nyagosstar, because fortunately she loves h/c too.

 

          Ed stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping on one of Roy’s enormous shoes on the way to the bathroom.  Why the man couldn’t seem to put them in one of his dozens of closets was beyond him.  Waving his hand frantically in the general vicinity of the switch, he managed to flick the light on before collapsing in front of the toilet, where he proceeded to heave what could only be everything he’d ever eaten in his entire life.

          When his stomach finally decided there was nothing left to offer, Ed sat back on his heels, letting his head rest on the edge of the toilet.  He was shivering.  The bathroom floor was freezing cold, and even the plush blue bathmat of the Winter suite did little to keep the chill at bay. 

          The door creaked behind him; he had been in such a rush to get inside the bathroom, he hadn’t closed it.

          “Ed?  You okay?”

          He held up one hand, using the other to wipe at his mouth.  “Don’t come in.”

          Roy, as usual, ignored him, and blinked at him under the bathroom lights.  His pajama pants hung low around his hips, and the old t-shirt he wore didn’t quite reach the waistband, revealing a pale strip of stomach.  “It sounded like you were puking.”

          Ed sighed, still tasting bile in the back of his throat.  “Just go away.”

          “I’m not a sympathetic puker, you know.  I can handle a little vomit.”

          Ed closed his eyes, willing the trembling sensation in his stomach to end.  “Please just…”  His body finished his sentence for him as he threw up again. 

          Roy did leave then, but returned a few moments later with a blanket and a glass.  He draped the blanket around Ed’s shaking shoulders, and filled the glass at the tap.  “At least you can get the taste out of your mouth.”  Ed drank a little water, swallowing it painfully. 

Roy brushed back the shorter pieces of hair around Ed’s face, his fingers strangely cool.  Frowning, Roy touched his wrist to Ed’s forehead.  “I think you have a fever.”

          Ed took another sip of water, wincing as his throat burned.  “You make it sound like no one’s ever had one before.” 

          Roy brushed the back of his hand against Ed’s cheek.  “It’s just strange to feel you this warm.”

          He coughed violently, and hoped his body wouldn’t suddenly decide it was time to start throwing up again.  “I guess I caught whatever stupid flu thing the guards had going around.”

          “Do you think you’re ready to come back to bed?”

          Ed pondered the question for a moment, and then nodded, but he took the trash bin with him in case he needed to heave again.  He felt a little lightheaded, and was grateful for Roy’s steadying arm as he walked slowly back to bed.  Roy lifted up the covers for him, and then smoothed the blankets over Ed.

          “Here.  Put this under your tongue.”  Roy held up a thermometer and Ed pressed his lips into a thin line. 

          “It’s not a big deal.  I told you, it’s just a cold or something.”  

          “Don’t be so stubborn.”

          “I’m not being stubborn.  It’s just a little fever.”

          Roy pushed the thermometer into his hand.  “Don’t argue with the Prime Minister.”

          Ed sighed, knowing from past experience that to resist Roy when he used that tone of voice only meant more aggravation later.  “Fine.”  He stuck the thermometer in his mouth, feeling like an idiot.

          After a few minutes, he pulled it out of his mouth, squinting as he turned it over in his hands.  “I can never read these freaking things.”

          Roy took the thermometer, and held it aloft.  “It’s ninety-nine degrees.”

          “That’s barely anything.”  Ed pulled the blankets up to his chin, his limbs still shaking slightly with cold.

          “It’s not nothing.”

Ed closed his eyes, gesturing weakly at Roy.  “Just turn the lights out and let me go back to sleep.  I’ll be fine.”

          “If you’re not feeling better in the morning, I’m calling Al.”

           “You’re not calling Al.  I’m not really sick.  This is an optical illusion.”  He opened one eye.  “And even if I was sick, there are other doctors in Amestris.  You don’t have to bother Al whenever I get a splinter.”

          Roy sighed.  “If I called someone else, you’d swear at them and call them a quack.”

          “Well, obviously.”

          Roy turned out the light and climbed into bed beside him, gently rubbing the skin between Ed’s shoulder blades.  “Try to get some rest.”

**

          The bed was shaking.

          Roy woke, blinking into the darkness.  Ed was coughing terribly, and his shivering from last night was a pale shadow to the bone-shaking chills that had taken over his body.  “You don’t sound good.”

          “It’s not,” he said, pausing in the middle to quell another hacking cough.  “That bad.”

          Roy got out of bed, hitching his pants up as he fumbled in the dark for the thermometer until turned on the lamp on the bedside table.  “Here.”

          “But—“

           “It’s really too early to argue about it.” 

          It was difficult for Ed to keep the thermometer under his tongue without coughing it across the room, but he finally managed to keep it in long enough to get a decent reading.  Ed didn’t bother to try to figure it out this time, and handed it directly to Roy.

          “Your fever’s up to a hundred and one.”  Roy crossed the room, picking up the phone by the door.

          “I’m fine,” Ed protested weakly, but a coughing fit prevented him from saying any more.

          Twirling the phone cord around his long fingers, Roy waited for the operator to connect him.  “Hello?  Al?”

          A bleary voice answered on the third ring.  “It’s not Al.”

          “Oh.  Sorry.  Hawkeye.”

          “Riza.  Are you all right?” 

          “Sorry.  Riza.  Yes, is Al there?”  He rubbed his toes along the carpet as he heard Hawkeye whispering as she handed the phone over.

          “Hello?”  Al’s voice cracked, making him sound like a teenager again.

          “Al?  Yeah, it’s Mustang.  Roy.  Did I wake you?”

          Al yawned.  “It’s three in the morning.”

          “Listen, I’m sorry to call you so early, but it’s Ed.  He’s pretty sick.”

          “I’ll be right over.”

          “That would be great.”  He hung up the phone and turned back to Ed.

          “He’ll be here soon.”

          Sweat poured down Ed’s temples, but his teeth chattered as he tried to speak.  “Colonel, where are we?”

          The title gave Roy pause; it had been a long time since Ed of all people had called him that.  He came to sit on the bed next to Ed, brushing aside his damp hair from his forehead.  “It’s okay.  Al’s coming.  He’ll know what’s wrong with you.”

          “Where is he?”  Ed’s breathing increased as his panic level rose.  “Where’s Al?  Did I leave him?”

          “No, no,” Roy soothed, “You didn’t leave him.  He’s just fine.  Al will be here very soon.”

          His words seemed to calm Ed a little.  “Is Armstrong with him?”

          “He’s with Hawkeye.  She’s watching over him while you’re sick.”

          “He’s just a little kid, Colonel.  He looks big but he’s really not.”  Ed winced as a wracking cough shook his frame.  “Don’t let the doctor take me to the hospital.  I want to wait for Al.  Promise me.” 

          Roy took his flesh hand in his.  Ed hadn’t been delirious before; his illness was clearly more severe than either of them had initially suspected.  “I promise we’ll wait for Al.  Here, drink some water.”

          Ed did as he was asked, and then rolled onto his side, coughing hard enough to split him in two.  “You can’t,” he said, trying to catch his breath, “go alone.”

          “Go where?”

          “You have a meeting.  Something about Ishballa.”  Ed’s eyes were wide, burning bronze in the lamplight.  “Don’t go by yourself.”

          Roy shook his head, trying to calm him.  “I won’t be alone.  Hughes will be there.”

          Ed’s expression changed from fear to sadness.  “Hughes got shot, Colonel.”

          Roy smiled at him gently, smoothing a hand over Ed’s face.  His skin fairly radiated heat.  “I know.  But he’s okay now.  Your fever’s making you a little confused.”

          “It’s so cold in here.  Can you make a fire?”

          “Your body’s too warm.  We need to bring your temperature down.”

          Burrowing deeper under the blankets, Ed groaned in misery.  “Please?”

          “Let’s just wait until Al gets here, okay?”

          That seemed to satisfy him for the moment, and Ed closed his eyes.  Roy ran his fingers lightly along the duvet, watching Ed breathe.  He was breathing fast, but never seemed to get enough air.  With his hair plastered to his pale skin and his limbs trembling slightly beneath the blankets, Ed looked strangely frail, and Roy’s stomach twisted. 

          A knock at the door startled Roy, and he rose to open it.  Al was on the other side, escorted by two guards, and looked as though he’d thrown on yesterday’s clothes.  “I’m really glad you’re here.  He’s feverish and really confused.”

          “How long has he been sick?”

          Roy took a long breath.  “Since after dinner last night.  It didn’t seem like anything really bad though; he just wasn’t feeling well.”

          Al rested a hand on Roy’s shoulder for a moment.  “It’s okay.  We’ll figure out what’s wrong.”  He followed Roy into the bedroom, his black bag in hand.

          “Ed, it’s me.”  Al spoke quietly but purposefully, and Ed opened his eyes. 

          “Al.”  Roy watched as Ed’s pupils dilated swiftly.  “Your body’s back!  How did you--”

          “I’m fine, Ed.  Don’t worry about me.”  Al exchanged a glance with Roy, and then rested a hand on Ed’s forehead.  “You’re really burning up.”  He pulled a thermometer out of his bag, shaking it.  “Open up.”

          Ed groaned, which turned into a series of unpleasant coughs.  “We already did this.”

          “Just humor me.”

          Ed sighed, sounding for a moment like his usual self.  “That’s all I ever do.”

          Al shook his head at him, a tired smile on his face.  Pulling the thermometer from Ed’s mouth, Al looked at it, frowning.  “It’s a hundred and two.  He averages ninety-six.”

          Ed jabbed a finger in Roy’s direction.  “He can’t read those things either.”  He fell into a fit of coughs that left him gasping.

          Reaching over, Al took Ed’s wrist.  After a minute passed, he looked up at Roy.  “His pulse is really fast.  A little weak, too.”  Al lifted the blankets, putting his stethoscope on Ed’s chest.

          “Your hands are cold,” Ed said, pushing him away.

          “Shh.  Try to take a few deep breaths for me.” 

          Ed complied, but his efforts were thwarted by his coughing.  Al reached behind him, helping him sit up as he listened to Ed’s lungs.  “Breathe again for me, Ed.”  After a minute or two, he pulled the blankets back over his brother, tucking his stethoscope into his pocket.  “His lungs are crackling.”   

          Roy folded his hands together to keep from wringing them.  “What's wrong with him?”

          “It’s pneumonia, and it’s a bad case.  It usually comes on suddenly, and it really hit him hard.  There’s fluid building up in his lungs, and he’s getting less and less oxygen in his blood.”

          “So what do we do?”

          “His fever’s too high, and it’s making his heart work too hard."  Al dropped his voice.  "I think we need to get him to the hospital.”

          “No.  No, don’t take me there.”  Ed’s voice had turned from confused to pleading.  “Please, Al, please.  I don’t want to be there.  I don’t want to die in the hospital.”

          Al bent over, speaking softly to Ed.  “You’re not going to die.  I’m worried about you, brother.  I think it’s better if we take you.”

          “I don’t like it there, Al.  I don’t want to leave.  Don’t make me go, please!”  Ed’s breathing was growing erratic, and his chest heaved with the effort.  “Al…please!”  He fixed Roy with a stare, and recognition flashed in his eyes.  “Roy, you won’t let him take me, right?” 

          Roy knelt by his bedside, resting a hand on his chest.  “It’s okay, Ed.  Just relax.  I won’t let anyone take you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

          Ed’s shuddering breaths became a little easier as he relaxed under Roy’s touch.  “You promise, right?”

          “Shh.  It’s okay.  I’m here.”

          Al inclined his head towards the door.  “Can I speak with you a minute?”

          “I’ll be right back, Ed.  Just relax.”  Roy stood, following Al out into the corridor.

          Taking a deep breath, Al exhaled before he spoke.  “You can’t lie to him like that.” 

          “He’s delirious and terrified at the thought of leaving here.  What would you do at the hospital you can’t do here?”

          Al pursed his lips.  “Nothing yet, but if things get worse, there are more invasive things that I couldn’t do for him outside the hospital.  Also, there are other doctors who—“

          “He doesn’t need another doctor.  You understand how his body works better than anyone.”  Roy didn’t want to contradict Al, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Ed being at the hospital without him. 

          Al frowned.  “I don’t even have everything I’d need.”

          “I’ll send a car to get whatever supplies you ask for.”

          “He’s my brother, Mustang.  He’s really ill and he deserves to get the best care possible.”

          “And that’s you.  And if you can do it here, you don’t have to worry about him freaking out the entire way there.  He’ll be more comfortable here.”

          Al crossed his arms over his chest.  “No, you’re more comfortable with him here.” 

          Roy regarded him coolly.  “I’m not going to deny that.  It doesn’t mean I’m still not right.  Keep him here for two more hours.  Anything you ask for will be brought here.  If he doesn’t improve, we’ll take him to the hospital.”

          “He might not have to stay that long.  It might only be a day or two—“

          “Al, please.”  Roy sighed.  “He hates the hospital.  He can’t sleep there, and he doesn’t eat, and if there’s any way he doesn’t have to go, I know he would appreciate it.”

          Muttering a swear word under his breath, Al’s shoulders sagged.  “I will give him one hour.  If nothing has improved, he’s going to the hospital.”

          Roy nodded.  “Fine.”

          Al turned to go back into the room.  “I’ll give you a list of what I need in a moment.”

          Roy watched as Al returned to his bag, opening a small bottle.  “Hey, Ed,” he said gently.

          Ed’s eyes fluttered open.  “Don’t take me away, Al.”

          “I’m not going to right now.  I want to see if we can get your fever down here first.  Here, drink this.”  Ed gagged on the medicine, but he managed not to throw it up. 

          Al scribbled out a long list of supplies and handed it to Roy.  “An hour, that’s all you’re getting.”

***

          Havoc pushed the door open with his hip, his arms full of boxes.  He gave Al a brief nod as he placed them on the table near the window.  “Where’s the PM?”

          Al used his pocketknife to slit open the top box.  “He’s next door.  Falman was on tonight already; he’s with him.”

          “You kicked him out?” Havoc gave Al an approving grin.

          “With all the respect due to his office, yes.”  Al started rooting through the second box, taking quick inventory.  “It didn’t take you long to get here with everything.”

          Havoc shrugged.  “It’s the middle of the night.  Not a lot of cars on the road.  Also, government cars don’t have to obey speed limits.”  He thrust his chin in Ed’s direction.  “He looks like crap.”

          “Shh.  Don’t wake him.”

          Havoc pulled a cigarette from behind his ear, rolling it between his fingers.  “Is there anything else I can do?”

          Al sighed.  “No, thanks.  Hopefully I won’t need any of the stuff you just brought.” 

          Havoc nodded, turning towards the door.  “Well, if you need anything…you know where to find me.”

          A small smile crept over Al’s face as Havoc left quietly.  In its own strange, dysfunctional way, Mustang’s crew had become almost like an extended family.  Of course, being connected with Riza as he was didn’t hurt.  He and Ed had been orphaned long ago, and yet they’d managed to find themselves adopted by all manner of people.  Some, like Hughes and Gracia, were parental, and some, like Ross and Bloch, were more like cousins, but they’d become family nonetheless.       

          A piercing shout made him jump. “Al!”

          Al turned away from the table where he was sorting medicines, and reached for his brother’s hand.  “Ed, it’s okay.”

          Gasping, Ed gripped his fingers hard enough to hurt.  “They’re after us.”

          Al disentangled his hand from Ed’s, taking the cold compress from his forehead.  “We’re safe here, brother.  No one can harm us.”  He dipped the compress in water, wringing out the excess before applying it to Ed’s skin again.  “I’ll protect you.”

          “But who’s going to protect you?”  Ed groaned, shaking with chills.  “It’s so cold in here.”  He fumbled for more blankets, but Al gently pushed his hands away. 

          “You’re still burning up.”

          Ed shook his head, disbelieving.  “Mustang is going to be really mad.”

          “Why?”

          Ed’s voice was soft and broken.  “We failed, Al.  We didn’t get there in time, and now all those people are going to die…”  

          Sighing, Al waited until Ed’s eyes met his.  “No one is going to die.  You’re in the Manor, and you’re really sick right now, but I’m going to make you better.”

          “All those years.  You were trapped for all those years.  It was my fault.”  His brother closed his eyes, his breathing shallow.

          Al kept his voice pitched low as he wiped the sweat from Ed’s face and neck.  “Ed, look at me.”  Ed’s eyes blinked open.  “I’m fine.  I have my body back.  You saved me.  Don’t you remember?”

          Ed’s form trembled, and he sucked in a breath before speaking.  “I’m so cold.  My arm is so cold.”

          Touching a hand to Ed’s automail arm, Al frowned.  The metal had grown surprisingly warm; not hot enough to burn, but its temperature was definitely off.  He pushed up the fabric of the sleeveless shirt Ed wore, and examined the scarred skin around his shoulder. 

          “Shit.”

          Ed blinked up at him.  “Did you just swear?”

          “No.”

          “You don’t swear.  You never hav—ow!”  Ed jerked back at Al’s touch as he probed the skin lightly with his fingers.  “You’re hurting me.”

          “Sorry,” Al said softly.  “Ed, I hate to do this to you, but I need to take off your arm.”

          “No.”  Ed crossed his arms over his chest.

          Al ran a hand down his face.  “Please, brother.”

          “Do you have to?”  Ed’s voice sounded like a child’s, and it made Al feel even worse.

          “It won’t be for too long.  You’re getting an infection around your port, and it’ll heal more quickly without your mail on.” 

          “Fine.”  The fight had gone out of Ed far more quickly than Al was used to, and it made him uneasy.

          Al reached under Ed’s arm, finding the panel with the disconnect.  “On three?”

          Ed closed his eyes.  “I don’t care.”

          Al counted anyway, and as the arm came loose, Ed gritted his teeth, groaning.  Once the automail was gone, Al could inspect the skin more closely.

          “Damn it, Al, that hurts!”

          “I know.  I’m sorry.”  Al turned away, looking through the boxes Havoc brought.  Glass bottles clinked together as he searched, finally putting his hands on the right one. 

          Ed’s teeth chattered together, and he groped with one hand to pull the blankets up.  “It’s so freaking freezing in here.”

          “I’m working on that.”  Al found his sterile kit and tourniquet.  “I’m going to give you some stronger medicine.  It’s going to help with the infection.” 

          “No needles.”  Ed gave him a pointed stare.

          “It’s not going to hurt.  I promise.  I’m really good at this.”  Al came to stand by Ed’s left side, but Ed had rolled over onto his side, away from Al.

          “I’m already dying; can’t you just leave me alone?”

          “Don’t be so melodramatic, brother.  It’ll be over in one second.”  Al gave Ed’s good shoulder a light squeeze.  “Come on.  Besides, you’ll get a lot more sympathy with an IV.”

          Ed glared at him, but turned onto his back again, holding out his arm.  “You only get one chance.  If you miss, forget it.”

          Al gave him a wry smile as he tied on the tourniquet.  “I don’t miss.”

 

***

          Roy collapsed into a chair, rubbing his forehead with both hands.

          “That could have gone a lot worse.”  Hughes pushed a bowl of oatmeal across the table towards him.

          Roy caught it, shaking his head at Hughes.  “I’m sure in some hellish alternate universe that yes, there could have been a worse version of what just happened.”  He looked over at Scieska.  “Did that woman really call me a shithead?”

          She grimaced.  “It’s not really something you can translate exactly, sir.  It did have slight overtones of bowel movements, however.”  She started to salute him, and then corrected herself, turning in into a wave.  “I’ll be in the library, sir.  I’ll see you later.”

          Hughes pushed the sugar bowl closer to Roy as she closed the door.  “You should eat.  You didn’t really have breakfast with them.”

          “I was too busy dodging their verbal bullets to digest anything.”

          “You gave them the chance to vent their spleen, which, really, is the only fair thing to do.”  Hughes drained his third cup of coffee, and then filled it again.  “Stop looking at me like that.  It’s decaf.”

          “Liar.”

          Hughes rolled his eyes, his glasses flashing in the sunlight coming through the windows.  “Yeah, I know.  Whatever.  I’m just saying, you did well.  The next meeting will go much better.  I’m sure of it.”

          Roy closed his eyes.  “Do we have to meet with them again?”

          “It is kind of part of the job.”

          “You’re sure?”

          “Pretty sure.”

          “Hughes?” 

          His best friend stopped adding a fourth spoonful of sugar to his coffee.  “Yeah?”

          “Do you think this was actually a good idea?”  He toyed with his oatmeal, spinning the spoon around the mealy mixture.

          Hughes stirred his coffee.  “You’re going to have to be a little more specific about which idea.  If you’re asking about breakfast, I’d say next time serve pancakes.  Not everyone likes oatmeal.”

           “Me.  We’re talking about me.  As a good idea.  For the Prime Minister.”

          A bit of coffee sloshed over the rim of Hughes’ cup as he set it on the table a bit too hard.  “We don’t need to have this conversation again.”

          “I think we do.”

          “Roy, I’ve been behind you since day one.  You know that better than anyone.  My idea of success is seeing you succeed at being the leader of this country, because you’re the right person for the job.”  He gave Roy a gentle smile, one that had seen Roy through more harrowing situations than Roy wanted to think about.  “We knew it wasn’t going to be easy.  Amestris was betrayed, and lied to, and mismanaged all the way down the line.  Trust takes a long time to rebuild.  And you will.  If anyone can win back this country, it’s you.”

          Hughes had given him this speech in various incarnations on numerous occasions since he’d taken office, but it hadn’t seemed to work its way into Roy’s brain yet.  He was utterly convinced that if he could have half the confidence in himself that Hughes did, he’d be able to save the world. 

          “You’re really too good for me.”

          Hughes lifted his eyebrows.  “We all are, but that’s the burden we bear.”  He ran a hand through his hair.  “So, Ed.  What’s the story?”

          “Al’s with him.  He’s really sick.”  Roy pushed away his oatmeal.  Playing with it was making him vaguely ill.  “Al’s worried.  Al wanted him to go to the hospital, but I convinced him not to take him.  Now all I can think about is whether or not I was wrong, and if something bad happens—“

          “I hate to burst your bubble, but you didn’t convince Al of anything.”  Hughes took off his glasses, cleaning them on his jacket.  “I don’t need to tell you that when it comes to his brother, there’s no way you’re going to talk him into doing anything he doesn’t want to do.  All you did was play good cop, bad cop.  Believe me when I tell you if he thought Ed had to go to the hospital, he’d be long gone.”

          Roy pursed his lips, not wanting his expression to register the truth of Hughes’ words.  “It’s just really shitty timing, what with the vote coming up.”

          “You’re just worried because you’re worried.”  Hughes shrugged.  “And don’t give the vote a second thought.  It’s passing.  I have it on good authority that Parliament’s behind us.”  Flipping open the datebook he always kept in his breast pocket, Hughes scanned through a few pages.  “You’ve got an eight-thirty you can easily miss.  I’ll pop in the meeting, see what’s going on with finance.  Go check on him.”

          “I shouldn’t skip these meetings.”

          “Yes, you should.  They’re boring as all hell.”  Hughes flashed him a smile.  “Just go.  I can handle a few economists.  They’re notoriously bad at defending themselves, and hey, I’ve got knives.”

          Roy sighed.  “Thank you.  I really don’t deserve you.”

          Downing the rest of his coffee, Hughes wiped his mouth.  “I know.  Thank goodness Gracia does, or I’d be going to waste.”

***

          Al exhaled, sitting back in the chair at his brother’s bedside.  Ed had fallen into a light sleep, although his breathing seemed more labored than ever.  Looking over his shoulder, he saw rain streaking down the windowpanes as the weak grey light filtered in.  He pressed his hands against his temples, massaging them lightly with his fingertips.  Ed shouldn’t be getting worse.

          Leaning forward, he checked the antibiotic drip in Ed’s arm.  It was broad spectrum, since he really couldn’t be sure which bacteria was causing Ed’s illness at this point.  His brother’s temperature had dropped a degree, but it hadn’t made much difference.  Al stared for a moment at the metal bolt through Ed’s collarbone, remembering the first time he saw his brother after the operation.  Ed had suffered such pain, and yet he bore it with his usual denials and cynicism.  Back then, it had seemed strangely apropos for them both to have metal parts.  In a way, it had made bearing his own armor easier, knowing he wasn’t alone.

          Al folded his hands together, cracking his knuckles.  It would be decades still before his body started hurting him.  Even though Ed didn’t say so, Al knew his brother woke every day with some discomfort.  Ed’s body was battered and scarred, and even though Al did everything in his power to keep him whole, he was fighting on an uphill slope. 

          A soft knock made him turn, and Roy entered, his tie loosened around the neck of his dress shirt. 

          “How’s he doing?”

          “Not great, but at least he’s sleeping.”

          “You took off his arm?”  Roy kept his voice level, but Al knew it made him anxious.

          “He’s got an infection around the port.  Keeping it on is stressing him out.”

          Roy nodded, brushing back hair that had fallen across his eyes.  “How long will it take for that medicine you’re giving him to work?”

          Al rose, uncomfortable to be seated while Mustang stood.  “It’s hard to say.  We should see some improvement in the next few hours.”

          Stepping around him, Mustang took the seat Al had abandoned, and let his chin drop to his chest.  “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”

          “I’m not settling for anything less than that.”

          Roy craned his neck to look up at Al.  “People die from this.”

          “Older people, and children, yes, sometimes,” Al said softly.  “But Ed’s neither.”

           “This is harder on him, though, than it would be for you or me,” Roy said, his tone matching Al’s.

          “Most things would be.  His immune system is really compromised as it is, and recent events haven’t helped change that.”

          Mustang sighed, looking back at Ed.  “I don’t blame you for resenting me.”

          “I don’t resent you.”

          “Of course you do.  You’d have to be crazy not to.  I’m the reason all this shit keeps flying his way.” 

          Al kept his gaze even.  “You don’t make these things happen.”

          Roy rubbed the back of his neck.  “I’m not the effect, but I am the cause.  If I’d taken up farming, or accountancy, you can bet Ed’s life would be a lot less dangerous.  It’s because of me, and like I said, I don’t blame you for blaming me.”

          “I don’t blame you, okay?  This is probably a difficult concept for you, but not everything in life can be controlled, including brothers and Prime Ministers.”  Al crossed his arms over his chest.  “All I can do is try to keep up.  Ed has more than paid the price for his choices.  Our choices.  He spent years keeping me alive.  Now it’s my turn.  So whatever crap rains down on him, regardless of why, is mine to deal with.  Don’t make this about you.  There are things in this world that aren’t, you know.”

          The corners of Mustang’s mouth twitched.  “I’m not making this about me.  It is about me.  You’re pissed that I didn’t call you the moment he started feeling sick.  You’re pissed that I argued with you.  And,” he said, yanking on his tie to undo the knot, “you’re pissed because you think I’ve replaced you.”

          Al took a deep breath, trying to think before speaking, but it didn’t quite work as well as he’d hoped.  “Is your ego really so huge that you honestly believe that?  Ed and I survived hell, and there are more than a few occasions I could mention when you could have pulled us out and didn’t.  He is my brother, Mustang.  He is my flesh and blood.  We survived only because of each other.  There is nothing that comes between us.”  He scoffed, shaking his head.  “He didn’t replace me with you.  He fixates.  You’ve known that since day one.  He’s obsessive.  He wants to protect people, save them.”

          Roy blinked.  “Obsessive is a synonym for Elric, is that what you’re saying?” 

          “I’m saying that as long as you have my brother’s best interests in mind, I have no problem with you.  The second that changes, I will become the person you hate the most.”

          “That’s not going to change.”

          Al shrugged.  “You’d better hope not.”

          Roy stared at him, his gaze dark and heavy.  “You think this is just for fun?  You think I’d screw around with him just to amuse myself and then toss him away when I get bored?”

          “I don’t think you’re that cruel.  I do think, with all due respect, that you get lazy.  Ed’s easy to love when he’s saving your life, or making you feel like the most important person on earth.”  Al took a breath.  “The more important question is, what are you going to do when he’s pushed you to the edge and you just don’t feel like making the effort anymore?”      

          A low laugh spun out of Roy’s mouth.  “You think that hasn’t happened yet?”

          “How would I know?  He doesn’t tell me anything anymore!  All I know is that half the time you’re a lazy bastard, and the other half you’re a conquering hero, and for once in his life, Ed deserves something good to happen to him.”  Al sighed, shaking his head.  “I’m saying you need to be good to him.  Good for him.  That’s all.”

          Roy opened his mouth to retort, but Al heard something shift in Ed’s breathing, and he turned away, looking down at Ed.  He was gasping now, chest-shaking breaths that made it sound like Ed was drowning.  Al swore quietly, mouthing the curses as he felt Ed’s racing pulse.  

          Roy stood, his voice strained.  “Is he okay?”

          “He’s cyanotic.  Look at his lips.  They’re turning blue.”  Al moved over to the table, looking through the boxes Havoc had brought.  “He’s not getting enough air.”  Sifting through the straw, he found the oxygen tank he’d requested, and he brought it to Ed’s bedside.

          “Ed?”  Al repeated his name several times, but Ed didn’t stir.  “Brother?”

          “I thought he was sleeping.”

          Al pursed his lips.  “He’s unconscious.  Lift his head.”

          Following his instruction, Roy gently held up Ed’s head as Al slipped the oxygen mask over Ed’s face, securing it with an elastic band. 

          Al began adjusting the controls on the tank.  “He might wake up once we get some more air into him.  He’s going to hate the mask, but don’t let him take it off.”

          Oxygen began to flow through the tubing with a quiet hiss, and after a few moments, Ed’s gasps grew less frantic, and his skin began to regain a little of its color. 

          Roy knelt at Ed’s side, his fingers idly stroking the damp strands of hair around Ed’s temples.  “Is this happening because I didn’t send him to the hospital?”

          “No.”  Al took out his penlight and tested Ed’s pupils.  “It’s happening because he’s worn down, and his body doesn’t have the same resources as everyone else’s.  And because this strain of pneumonia is really mean, and it’s kicking his ass a little.”

          “How long do you think he’ll be sick?”

          Al scrubbed his hand across his hair, which stuck out at all angles from his current state of bedhead.  “Probably a week or two.  It won’t be nearly as bad once the drugs get through his system.  Once we get his vitals stable and his fever down, it’s just a matter of resting and coughing up all the crap in his lungs.”

          “What about his arm?”

          Al palpated the skin around Ed’s port, still finding it warm to the touch.  “A day or two, maybe.  Once the infection dies down, there’s no reason he can’t have his arm back on.”

          Ed groaned, sounding strangely far away behind his mask, and his eyelids fluttered as his gaze slowly focused on their faces. 

          His groan turned into a scream, and he flailed, shaking his head from side to side. 

          Al grabbed Ed’s arm, holding it firmly in place to keep him from tearing out the line or knocking off the mask.  “Roy.  Talk to him.  Calm him down.”

          Mustang placed one hand on Ed’s chest and the other on his forehead, his voice quiet and kind.  “Hey there.  It’s okay.  Look at me.”

          Gasping inside the mask, Ed finally stared up at Roy, his body slowly relaxing.  “What’s…happening?” 

          “Shh,” Roy said, rubbing small circles in the middle of Ed’s chest.  “You’re still at home.  Al’s still here.  You passed out.  He’s giving you oxygen to help you breathe.”

          “I’m…still…cold.”

          Roy smiled at him, and kissed his forehead.  “You’re still feverish.  Don’t worry.  It’s going down, but it’s going to take time.”

Ed’s breathing evened out a little, and Al loosened his grip on his brother’s arm.  He looked away from Roy for a moment to look at Al.  “Am I getting…worse?”

          Shaking his head, Al gave Ed’s hand a gentle squeeze.  “Just relax.  We’re here.”

**

          It was hard to sleep at first; strange, cool air kept pushing its way into his nose and mouth, making his tongue stick to the insides of his cheeks.  Once his body finally realized it didn’t have to work so hard to breathe, though, he fell into a deeper slumber than he’d been in for longer than he could remember. 

          Hands touched him now and then, pressing against his throat or resting against his forehead.  He was still somewhat cold, but the hands straightened his blankets, which went a long way to keeping out the chill.  There was still something on his face and occasionally an odd twinge in his arm, and he didn’t like that, but if he wanted to complain, he’d have to wake up, and he wasn’t ready to do that.

          Instead, he dreamed, strange visions of desert landscapes and being underwater.  Once he didn’t have any automail at all, and other time, he didn’t even have the ports; he had only scarred skin and hobbled with a cane.  Sometimes Roy was there, touching him, holding him, whispering to him.  In one dream he kept his one eye covered, as though he could no longer see.  The dreams were bizarre, and yet they felt more real than the world had the last time he’d come to.  After a time, though, the dreams were slowly crowded out by light, and he opened his eyes.

          He turned his head, and saw Al asleep in the chair by his bed.  His hair fell across his eyes, and Ed could see the light film of shadow creeping along his jaw line.  It felt impossible that his brother could grow facial hair; Al still seemed so young at times to him that Ed occasionally expected Al’s preadolescent voice to come out of his mouth.  

          The mask made it harder to be heard, and Ed’s mouth was so dry his tongue felt like sandpaper.  “Brother?”

          Al’s eyes were open so fast Ed wondered if he’d only dreamed his brother was sleeping.  “Ed?  You’re awake.”

          Ed lifted his hand—had it always felt so heavy?—and pointed at the mask.  “Off?”

          Leaning over him, Al helped slip the mask off to the side.  “For a few minutes.”  He offered Ed a cup of water with a straw.  “Drink?”

          Ed sucked the liquid down greedily, draining the cup.  The water slaked his thirst, sliding beautifully down his throat.  “What time is it?”

          Al smiled.  “You’ve been asleep for nearly a day.  It’s close to ten am.” 

          “You stayed?”

          “Of course.  You think I’d leave you like that?”  Al rose stiffly to his feet, coming to stand by Ed. 

          It was harder to breathe without the mask on, but the feel of fresh air against his face more than made up for it.  “Where’s Roy?”

          Al slipped the thermometer under Ed’s tongue, and while Ed couldn’t speak, he listened to his chest.  “Roy’s at a meeting with Hughes.  I tried to convince him to stay elsewhere, but he slept on the sofa over there.” 

          Ed nearly spat out the thermometer when he heard Roy hadn’t followed security protocol, but Al waved a hand at him, putting away his stethoscope.  “Falman and Havoc stayed too, outside of course.”  Al took the thermometer, holding it up to read it.   

          “That doesn’t matter!  He’s not supposed to stay in the same room!”  Ed felt his breath catch, and he had to gulp more air to make up for it.

          “Don’t freak out, Ed.  Everything was fine.”  Al gave him a smile, patting his forearm lightly.  “The good news is your temp’s down to ninety-eight.  You still have a little way to go, but I don’t think it’ll spike again.”

          A fit of coughs shook Ed’s frame, and Al waited until they ceased before easing the mask over Ed’s face again.  “I hate this thing,” Ed said, staring pointedly at Al.

          “I know.  But it’s helping a lot, and pretty soon, you won’t need it anymore.”

          A knock sounded at the door, and Al rose as the door opened.

          “Is he…” Roy peered around Al, and he smiled when Ed caught his gaze.  “You’re awake!”

          Roy’s hands gently touched him, stroking the skin of his wrist.  “You’re looking a little better.”

          “You’re a stupid ass!” Ed said, but the quizzical gaze he got from Roy in response let him know the mask had muffled his words.  Pulling aside the mask for a moment, he repeated himself, and this time his words had the desired effect.

          “You worry too much.  It was one night, and I wanted to be here with you in case you needed me.”

          Ed sighed, pulling the mask away again.  “Don’t you dare stay in here tonight.”

          Roy rolled his eyes.  “Tonight is hours away.  Maybe we’ll all switch rooms.”

          Behind Roy, Ed saw Al shaking his head. 

          Ed took a long breath of oxygen, and then pushed the mask aside.  “Just do what I tell you for once.”

          “You shouldn’t keep taking the mask off,” Roy chided.

          “If you’d just listen to me, I wouldn’t have to.”

**

          The bed in the Vineyard suite was enormous, which was saying something for the Manor.  Besides the size, there were two lovely things about this bed, Ed decided.  One, the sheets didn’t smell like his own sweaty self, which was a huge bonus, and two, Roy was in the bed with him, which was the first time such a thing had happened in nearly a week.

          He flexed his automail hand, still relieved to have it back.  Roy’s arm was around his waist, and he’d pulled Ed close, his head resting on Ed’s metal shoulder.

          “I can’t imagine that’s comfortable,” Ed said, his voice still raspy from coughing.

          “It is.”

          Ed took a breath, finding himself somewhat amazed that it didn’t hurt to do so.  He still wasn’t quite well, but the fever had finally gone, and he didn’t feel so much like he was going to die anymore.  “Did Al finally listen to you?”

          Ed felt Roy’s smile in the dark against him.  “He did go home, yeah.  He said to tell you he’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

          “Hawkeye’s going to be furious with me.”

          Roy laughed quietly.  “She’d only be pissed at you if you died.”

          “Are you laughing about me dying?  Because I don’t—“

          Roy stopped his words with a kiss.  “It was a figure of speech.”

          Ed turned his chin away.  “You’re not supposed to kiss me.”

          “Too late.”

          A smile tugged at Ed’s lips.  “Did I really call you Colonel?”

          “You were out of your mind.”  Roy’s finger traced the edge of Ed’s automail, following from rib to collarbone.  “It was a little scary, actually.”

          “I don’t remember that at all,” Ed said, breathing in the scent of Roy’s hair.

          “You kept shivering and saying how cold you were, but your skin was so warm, warmer than I’ve ever felt.”  Roy’s hand rested on Ed’s ribs, rising and falling with Ed’s breath.  “You begged me not to send you to the hospital.”

          “I do remember that,” Ed said softly.  “Thanks for that.”

          “Al’s really the one to thank.  He’s the only reason you got to stay home.”

          “He’s a good man.”  Ed closed his eyes, relishing the feel of Roy’s body against his beneath the blankets. 

          “You both are,” Roy said, shifting off of his shoulder and onto the pillow.

          Ed laughed, coughing a little afterwards.  “I told you that couldn’t be comfortable.”

          Roy snorted.  “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

          “All I’ve done is sleep.”

          “Yes, well, it’s good for you.”

          Turning over to face him, Ed cupped the back of Roy’s head, leaning in to kiss him.  Their lips opened, but before Roy’s tongue could slip through, Ed pulled away, resting his forehead against Roy’s.  “I don’t want you to catch what I had.”

          “You just kissed me.”

          “Yeah, but not with tongue.”

          “You’re insane.  At this point it hardly matters.”

          Ed stroked his jaw.  “I’m just looking out for you.”

          He felt Roy’s smile moving the muscles of his cheek.  “Okay.”

          “What’s the schedule look like for tomorrow?”

          Roy sighed, his breath warm against Ed’s chest.  “Well, I have two phone conferences before noon, and then three meetings after that.  You, hold on, let me see.”  Roy     stopped, pretending to think.  “You’ve got a nine o’clock with your brother, and then a ten o’clock with this bed, and I think the bed pretty much has you tied up for the rest of the day until your very important meeting with me for dinner, which will of course, take place in this bed.”

          Ed shook his head.  “Is Havoc with you?”

          “Breda too.  I’m taking two to keep you from getting any crazier than you already are.”

          Ed sighed.  “You do so much to ease my already mentally altered state.”

          Chuckling, Roy’s body shook gently against Ed’s.  “I do try.”

          “Go to sleep.  If you don’t, I won’t, and then Al will be mad at us both.”

          Roy nodded, kissing Ed’s forehead.  “True enough.  You sure you don’t need anything?”

          Ed closed his eyes, leaning against Roy.  “Nah.  I don’t need anything at all.”

             


End file.
